Lizzie Bennet Diaries -- He's Not Right For You
by azagreene
Summary: His eyes were dark, full of churning waves, his hair an inky contrast against the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky. There he was, that ridiculously attractive man, with the trouble in his eyes, and one hand in his pocket. *Darcy sees Wickham and Lizzie dancing and stalks off. Lizzie can't help herself and chases after him.*
1. Chapter 1

"You're jealous, aren't you?" I said incredulously to his tensed back. As if it was possible, Darcy stiffened even more, like one touch could shatter him into a million pieces.

"He's not right for you." He said in a low voice, hands pressing down on the sill.

"What does that even mean?" I shook my head, feeling the immaculately placed curls slip from my intricate chignon, tress by tress.

"I think you already know, Elizabeth." Darcy said stonily.

"I don't - " I began to argue, slightly disturbed by the way he said my name.

"You do," He said quietly, turning around. "Otherwise you'd be out there with him, not me."

"You think you have me all figured out, don't you?" I snapped.

"On the contrary, Elizabeth, I know I do."

"You're wrong."

"Oh, but I'm not. Go back to your date, Miss Bennet, and drink up all his smiles - you won't be getting any from me."  
"You can't say stuff like that and expect me to leave, Darcy." I retorted angrily.

He smiled wryly. "I'm not being cryptic, Elizabeth. It's you who has trouble looking past her own opinions."

"_My_ opinions?" I repeated incredulously. "Wasn't it you who decided to be antisocial the moment he stepped into the party? You made up your mind that you were better than all of us, and now you actually have the audacity to accuse me of being opinionated?"

He was silent for a moment before turning around and speaking. "You don't understand and I cannot explain. I'm not like you, Miss Bennet, or like Charles or my sister, Gigi for that matter. I was not graced with the talent of conversing easily with people I've never met."

"So practice." I whispered through unmoving lips.

His lips curled. "Why should I? The only person I care to speak to right now is preoccupied by being angry with me."

I opened my mouth and closed it again. "You can't possibly have anything to say to me, Darcy."

He turned away once again, looking out at the dusky sky. "Go back to the party, Elizabeth. There is nothing for you up here."

I blinked. "No," I said quietly. "I'll leave when I want to."

His back tightened slightly. "You'd rather be up here with me, rather than spending your time dancing downstairs? I would've thought Wickham is most adept at twirling young women around on the dance floor."

"Downstairs is loud." I said softly.

He turned his head. "And?"

"And there are too many people."

He laughed without humor. "That's what parties are comprised of."

"I think it's why I don't like them too much."

He mulled this over, keeping his gaze on the setting sun. "Books are better than parties, are they not Miss Bennet?" He said slowly.

"That depends, Mr Darcy."

He cocked his head. "On what?"

I smiled ruefully. "Well, if you must know, I've always wanted to attend one of Mr. Gatsby's large parties."

Darcy turned toward me again, the setting sun behind him casting an interesting halo around his frame. His eyes were dark, full of churning waves, his hair an inky contrast against the kaleidoscope of colors in the sky. There he was, that ridiculously attractive man, with the trouble in his eyes, and one hand in his pocket. It was moments like these where I could pretend that he didn't know the fine art of being an arrogant asshole, moments like these, where I could simply appreciate his appearance without his haughty words echoing in my brain.

Darcy's lips twitched and he watched me for a few seconds before speaking. "Haven't you heard, Elizabeth? Those are the best ones."

"I think we're missing out on one happening just below our feet," I sighed.

Darcy was quiet for a moment before looking up, and straight into my eyes. "Elizabeth," He drawled out my name in a low voice and it caused something in my stomach to tighten.

"Yes?" I peered up at him, noting the way his white shirt clung to his torso.

"Dance with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy

I'm gazing at her and I know I should stop, but I just can't. Standing right there, with the glow of the fading sun illuminating her fair skin, Lizzie looks more like an angel than anyone has the right to. Reddish coils of glossy hair, once twisted into an intricate knot, frame her face delicately, while her blue eyes pulse with surprise as they glance down to my hand, which I've held out for her.

"_You_ want to dance with _me_?" She asks incredulously, eyeing my hand with suspicion. I smile faintly at her surprise – clearly she doesn't see herself very clearly, because I doubt there's not a single man in the room that hasn't looked at her with a sense of longing.

"Who else would I dance with?" I say, knowing full well that the thought of holding someone else in my arms does not appeal.

Lizzie shrugs nonchalantly, jerking her dainty shoulder at me. "Caroline. Isn't she your go-to person when events like this get awkward?"

I snort. "First of all, events like this are always awkward, until someone drinks a little too much alcohol and gets the party started. And secondly, Caroline isn't the one I want to dance with." I peer at her through my lashes, seeing the indecision clearly in her eyes.

"Why?" Lizzie says softly. "She seems to enjoy dancing with you."

I straighten slightly and my mouth twitches. "You are far more observant than I give you credit for."

She presses her lips together. "You don't see the way she looks at you."

I watch her until she begins to squirm underneath my gaze. "She can look at me for hours and I don't think I'll ever look at her the way she wants me to."

Elizabeth bites her lip and I squash the urge to take a step forward and tumble her into my arms. "Why not?" She asks hesitantly in a barely audible voice.

Because of you, I want to say. You've ruined me for any other woman, and you're not the least bit aware or sorry about it. But I don't say that. I merely smile slightly, hold out my hand, and say the one thing I can say without ruining the moment.

"Dance with me, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's gaze gets tangled with mine for a brief moment, and I hold onto it as long as I can. Her eyes beckon to me like little pools of viscous honey, in a shade of blue that is too becoming for her own good. She sucks in a breath and her lashes lower as her gaze flicks down to my waiting hand. And with a little sigh, she places her hand gently in mine, and I unconsciously feel myself tugging her forward, as the sun outside dips slowly past the horizon. It is dark in the room now, as neither of us had bothered to flip the lights on, and we are coated with a shroud of dusky nightfall. Despite the shadowy blanket over everything, her soft features are still visible to my hungry gaze, and I drink in her appearance as if the chance will never be available to me again.

"I thought we're going to go dance." She whispers, her warm palm enclosed in mine, reminding me of the irreplaceable chance in my arms. I realize I have been watching her for longer than I thought.

"Is that what you want?" I whisper back, enjoying the way her pupils dilate.

"Maybe…" She utters softly, taking a tiny step to close the distance between us. "Yes."

Her face is close enough to mine that I can see the flecks of green in her eyes. Her lashes flutter once again, and I bite back the urge to brush my fingers across her satiny skin. "You just took a step away from the door."

Elizabeth's breath hitches. "Did I?"


	3. Chapter 3

Lizzie

Let me make something abundantly clear. I love my sister. I do. But there was very little stopping me from pouncing on her when she called my name from behind the door.

"Lizzie?" Lydia's voice rang out clearly in the quiet of the room and Darcy stilled, hand mere inches away from my cheek.

"Yes?" I called back in a strangled tone, as Darcy took a small step back. I tried not to let the fact that I could still feel the warmth of his body distract me. "Is something the matter?"

Lydia bypassed knocking on the door and peeked in, eyes slightly widening in surprise when she saw who I was with. "Oh. You're with him."

I bit my lip. "Um, yes." Next to me, Darcy tensed.

My sister shot me a knowing look and ran her eyes over Darcy's slightly possessive frame next to mine. "Right. Somebody downstairs is waiting for you and they asked me to bring you down."

I felt myself stiffen as Darcy slid his hand down to my lower back and glowered at my sister. "Well, you can tell that _somebody_, she's with me, and she'll come down when she's ready to."

Lydia shrugged and turned to leave the room. "Go tell him yourself; I'm not your messenger."

When she left, Darcy turned the glower on me. "Really, Elizabeth?" He said, his clenched hands telling me all the sorts of emotions that were running through him.

"I'm not with him, you know." I retorted. "I read your letter, Darcy, I know what he's like. I only said yes to the dance because he asked me in front of my mother." I softened my voice and tilted my head. "And I didn't expect you to stalk off like that either. It was just one dance."

Darcy looked down at me once more, blue eyes glittering with unreserved emotions. "You don't know what he's capable of. Stay away from him, Elizabeth. End all contact. I wish you would."

I gazed back at him unflinchingly. "I know how to take care of myself, Darcy. Besides, you're awfully worried for someone you think is barely tolerable."

His eyes flashed at me. "That was a long time ago."

"It was an unwarranted assumption nevertheless." I tossed back, wishing we could go back to the dancing among…er…other things, and then mentally berating myself for it.

The haughtiness was beginning to creep back into his voice. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"Why does it bother you so much that I had one meaningless dance with Wickham?"

Darcy's eyes narrowed. "If you must know, it bothers me that you had to meet him in the first place. You read the contents of my letter, Elizabeth. What he did to my sister was inexcusable and abhorrent."

"I'm not disputing that. I just wish you'd trust me to take care of myself."

His eyebrow rose. "I don't believe I ever stopped you from dancing with him, did I? _You_ followed _me_, Elizabeth."

I glanced down. "I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. Really, I would have declined if my mother hadn't been there, but she doesn't know anything about who he really is, and saying no would have been a far greater headache than this." I could've just imagined the expression on my mother's face if I were to say no. My mother saw what she liked to see – an attractive, well-mannered, chivalrous young man. To her, declining Wickham was like declining my chance at a possible marriage. She didn't see him for the asshole he really was.

"You know, this is probably what he wanted." I threw my hands up in the air. "Upsetting you and seeing you storm off was what he was trying to get at when he asked me to dance, and he specifically chose to ask me when I was with my mother, knowing a refusal would cause a scene."

Darcy jerked his shoulder. "Yes well, he's rather adept at causing unnecessary trouble, so I'm not surprised."

"What are you going to do with him now?" I wondered out loud.

"If I had my way, I think I wouldn't mind beating him to a pulp, but knowing the coward he is, he's probably long gone by now." He sighed.

"Lydia said he was downstairs waiting for me." I frowned.

The ghost of a smile teased Darcy's lips. "You won't find him in this house any longer, Elizabeth. He left the moment he relayed that message to Lydia." He snorted. "If he was man enough, he would have come up and gotten you himself, but that didn't happen, did it?"

"Are you going to tell your sister?" I asked warily.

"Absolutely not." Darcy said firmly. "Now that she's finally back on her own two feet, the last thing she needs is a reminder of him again."

Another minute of quiet passed. I could feel his penetrating gaze on me and I automatically zeroed in on the hardwood floor. I had no idea where we would go from here. Too much had transpired in one night and I was…confused.

"So," I said toeing the faded Persian rug. He was still quiet, but I could feel that he was waiting for me to say something else, something besides the subject of Wickham's antics. "Were you actually jealous?"

Darcy inhaled and I looked up, startled. He was much closer than I anticipated, the flecks of grey sharp cliffs in his eyes against the churning waves of blue. His dark hair, illuminated by the light my sister had turned on, was even more tousled than before and I figured that somewhere between Lydia's arrival and conversation about Wickham, he had run a few fingers through it repeatedly.

Darcy gazed right into my eyes for another minute before his gaze swept over my once-sleek hair and slightly rumpled dress. "The silly thing is, Elizabeth," He began, hand lifting up as if to brush against my cheek, but then dropping down. "I don't think I have a right to be."

I tilted my head slightly. "That's not what I asked."

"I know," Darcy said softly and then took a step back, a step towards the door. "But, I think you and I both know the answer to that question…don't we, Miss Bennet?"

"You're leaving." I observed quietly.

"It's late." He said huskily. "I have several meetings tomorrow I can't miss." He dragged his gaze one more time down my frame and left the room, pausing when he got to the stairs.

"Oh and, Elizabeth?"

"Yes?" My voice sounded breathless, even to my own ears.

A small smile twitched the corner of his lips. "If we ever do meet at an event like this, remind me I owe you a dance. I'm not one to break my promises."


End file.
